


Written in Fear

by MrowSaystheCat



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, I think I got everyone there?, but it had to be done, it calmed me on some levels, this made me so sad to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrowSaystheCat/pseuds/MrowSaystheCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing. And then… everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written in Fear

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in April, and since then? It has only been on one other website. I thought it would stay there, exclusively - but I lately thought to bring it here, because it might help to bring others to a place of calm. Maybe. It is my worst fear, where the television series is concerned. I don't want Glenn to die, but this helped me deal with the possibility. I hope that it is taken well, if not - I'm sorry.

Pain. Mocking. The sticky truth of his death as it flowed down; the crunch of bone a crescendo laced in shrieks and sobbing. It was fast, and the world expanded and snapped. All of his life, before his eyes; wrapped in blood red vision which shortly went to darkness. Nothing. And then… everything.

He stood up; lifting from the broken form that lay at the feet of the laughing man. Something about a vampire bat was stated, but he couldn’t care. Rantings, pride over a kill which was so ignoble and barbaric that he was sure the guy had lost his humanity ages ago. Maybe even before everything had gone to shit. Did it matter? Not anymore. Not to him. The others? It would mean something; he could see it written in their faces, even as he turned to them. All were stricken with grief; last messages clear as spring showers on their faces. Maybe thunderstorms.

Lightening flashed in Michonne’s eyes; a lioness tracking her future kill. The only softness came when she regarded the broken shell. Then, back to the killer standing above whom he’d ruined. She would mourn when they were away, sheltered. When her memories would bring a whole, smiling face to her inner-eye; she’d welcome the wash of tears then, and he would be another ghost to hold close to her heart. _He touches her cheek softly; knows he will miss their comradery. Knows that she will take shelter within the shade of his memory, and he will not be forgotten_.

Abraham was much the same, though he held gruff noises in his throat. Not sobs; no, not here. He was a rock which would not show its fissures to the world. But they were there; they ran deep. Deeper still, after this night. He listened, but did not take his eyes away from the one they’d lost. Write it on the soul; this man with determination born of something so passionate he couldn’t help but admire the fire in him. Gone. _There is no contact, but he does look him in the eye; nod his head in acknowledgement. There’s shared respect, a care which had formed from a random bond. But what about their group wasn’t random and perfect within that?_

Daryl; staring, too. Locked on the image of the broken; desecrated kindness, something that shouldn’t have been tainted like this. A litany of self-blame in his head; memories skipping along beneath his hymn of sorrow. Another brother shattered before his eyes; one so much purer than that which blood had given him. This was all on him, he knew it. All of it, and he couldn’t change it. He’d let him down, and now there was no way he could make it up. Eyes flashed to the one who’d done it. There will be hell to pay for this; his present weak-state be damned. _‘It’s not your fault, man.’ The words won’t reach him, but he says them anyway; taking a second to put his hand on Daryl’s unwounded shoulder. Wishing the other man could hear him. Knowing that he’d be disregarded on principle anyway; even if he would be given a gruff sense of care_.

Rick felt like another ghost before him; swaying on his knees. Numb, with his head tilted; the pain written on him as tears rolled down cheeks that had somehow gone hollow in the shadows. Daryl’s litany seemed to live here, too – in Rick’s voice, soft and steady but lost. Lost. _“Rick, don’t do this to yourself. We were wrong in what we were facing; we all know that now. Pick up, carry on; there’s still hope. Always will be, as long as we feel it. You will come back from this.” Hand to shoulder; a squeeze, gentle and brotherly. There is no blame._

Rosita, Sasha, Eugene. Aaron. He walks to each, touches each; the memories and the cares and the worries. All of it bundled in, made precious in these final goodbyes that they’ll never hear and he will never voice as a mortal man. But they are eternal. They are true. And they make him ache.

 

Then, there’s Carl; rolling his soul in a shield of rage and retribution. Cold, staring. Seeing him; a friend, a family-member. Torn from the world in such a way, in front of the host of their clan. Before an audience who’d come for the revenge and blood sport of it. The lesson learned. Seared in to his soul. There will be an answer. _“No, don’t let it eat you. You’re too good for this. Not worth it, dude. Come back, your mom wouldn’t want this for you. Be above it; hold them all close to you, and keep Enid safe.” There’s furrowed brows; a worried touch to the youth’s arm. The words won’t get through, but there’s so much in Carl which is still whole. The most important aspects._

 

Most important aspects.

Glenn’s always known his.

His wife.

Their child.

The future they were building together.

 

No, he’d not been avoiding her. His treasure in a mad world. He’d never forsake her; even in death. They would always be bound together. Glenn went to her then; knelt before her. Touched her face. Held her cheeks in his hands; stroked her hair gently while he studied her face. Mourning him. Breaking before him, swaying but keeping to her knees even as her world fell away. Glenn pressed his lips to hers, knowing she would never realize. He breathed a wish within her; seeking and pleading with all the fates to give him this one thing in passing. Spare her, the baby; let them grow.

_Babe, it’ll grow. We’ll be okay._

_I love you._

She raises her eyes, and their gazes meet. Between space, and time; the ethereal and the physical meet; coalesce. She sees, and he knows. They both know. When hadn’t they known? Love eternal.

The feel of her faded from his hands; and he felt himself become whole again. There, in the clearing. Everything became as if it were untouched. His body was gone; his family was an outline, before other forms whispered across the stage of life. Glenn stood, wrapped himself in his own arms and wondered what would come for those he’d been torn from.

 

“You’ll see them again, don’t you worry on that.” Hershel. Glenn felt him clap him on the shoulder, and then the man was smiling beside him. “C’mon now, let’s get you home.”


End file.
